Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Bite Your Tongue: Roadie Rage, and How to Avoid It

Other cyclists can be annoying. Take the cyclist I shared the bridge to Manhattan with this morning. As I ascended, I was overtaken by a rider on a color-coordinated track bike which was as free from dirt as it was from brakes. He passed me handily and I thought nothing of it, thinking that was the last I'd see of him.

But then came the descent, and the drawbridge-being-raised sound of reverse torque on a fixed-gear drivetrain. There's a sharp right hand turn at the bottom of the bridge on the Manhattan side. If you've got brakes it's no big deal and you don't even have to think about slowing until you're right on top of it, but if you're brakeless you have to begin the process of slowing as soon as you begin your descent lest you come into it too hot and wind up splattered on the side of a Fung Wah bus. Needless to say, I soon found myself stuck behind this guy. And if you commute in New York City or any place brakelessness is rampant, you know what came next: the skip-stops. Pedalpedalpedal, skidskidskid. Pedalpedalpedal, skidskidskid. As he gingerly picked his way down like a mule descending a rocky trail, I passed the minutes by feathering my brakes and marveling over their efficacy; first the front, then the rear, then both together. Then I used my levers to tap out "You're an idiot" in Morse code, but I don't think he noticed.

The reason I was so upset is that New York City's pretty flat, and when it comes to commuting I'm pretty lazy. The bridge descent is one of the few places where I can actually go fast without exerting myself. To be robbed of that opportunity because of someone's fashion choice is extremely irritating--it's like paying to go see a movie and then sitting behind someone who insists on wearing a giant tri-cornered hat. (I always take mine off unless I'm sitting in the very last row.)

But while I may have been upset, I didn't go so far as to actually say something to him. First of all, the hairy-chested gigolo that is annoyance swings both ways, and I very well may have been just as annoying to him. As he passed me on the ascent, I'm sure he was disgusted by my lazy pace, and my non-messenger bag, and my superfluous brakes, and my ostentatious taped bars with their giant levers and multiple bends. "How many hand positions does this idiot need?", he probably asked himself. "He's got more places to put his mitts than a serial groper on a Tokyo subway." And on the way down, he probably cursed us crazy braked riders and our reckless high-speed descents.

The second reason I didn't say anything was that it might have been dangerous. Yesterday a number of people emailed me the following horrific article from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel:

[excerpt]

The man told police he was riding on South Shore Drive when he heard someone from behind tell him that he would be passing on the left. He moved over and a man and a woman rode past.

As they did, however, he said, "Get a light." The other man turned and asked what he said.

The victim repeated, "Get a light."

The couple yelled loudly at the man, telling him to mind his own business, according to police. The victim said the other man attempted to run him off the road before the couple followed him to his home driveway.

That's where a conversation about lights continued and the woman told the victim that he seemed to have plenty of lights and asked for one. He gave her a light and told police he did not feel threatened.

The other man, however, appeared to still be upset about the original comment and allegedly clamped his hands around the victim's head. The other man then twisted the victim to the ground and kneed him in the ribs.

...

The first suspect was described as a white male, about 6 feet tall, wearing a dark-colored jacket and riding a Trek time trial bike .

The second suspect was a white female, about 5-feet-4-inches who rode an Orbea road bike with orange on the front.

This report of unwarranted violence shook me to my core, and I can only hope these rampaging roadies are brought to justice. I must say though that I can't imagine a dorkier pair of assailants--even in Wisconsin. To be attacked by some Fred on a Trek TT bike while his Orbea-straddling Wilma looks on is an indignity nobody should ever have to experience. I wish the article gave more of a description, because I'd very much like to know what they were wearing. Given the savage nature of the attack and the goofy bikes I'm pretty sure Primal Wear was involved. The man was probably sporting this inexcusably hideous Metallica "...And Justice For All" jersey (you don't "rock" or "run" Primal Wear; you "sport" it, like Dockers or Rockports):

While his lady partner, who's clearly in denial over the disaster her life has become, had most likely attired herself in the Queen of DeNile chemise:I'd also be willing to bet good money (and by "good money" I mean Euros) that at least one of them was wearing one of those inexcusable roadie babuskas:

The roadie babuska is the cycling equivalent of sporting a Members Only jacket with no shirt underneath, and you should never, ever wear one, no matter how much pate-wicking you may think you need. Then again, you also probably shouldn't tell people you don't know to "get a light," or to "wear a helmet," or to "get a brake." While all of these things are good advice, and while it's perfectly fine to endorse them, it's almost always best to refrain from doing so directly to other riders in situ. This is not to excuse Fred and Wilma's wanton behavior by any means, but it is really annoying. Even though I believe with every molecule in my body that you should never wear a roadie babushka, I wouldn't approach a stranger and tell him he should take that sweaty disgusting dishrag off his head. And even though I wanted to tell the guy on the bridge to "get a brake," I knew it would have been foolish to do so. Being annoyed by brakeless riders is curmudgeonly; telling off brakeless riders on the street is just pain douchey.

Franck Vandenbroucke is the Mavic Ksyrium freehub of professional cyclists in that both are constantly squealing and failing, yet people continue to invest money in them for some reason. You'd think after the famous "those drugs were for my dog" incident (which was, admittedly, sublime in its absurdity) cycling would have closed the door on Vandenbroucke once and for all, and that people would realize by now that he's long gone from enfant terrible to plain infant. But you'd be wrong. You'd also think people would have realized he looks uncannily like Ruprecht from "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels," but to my knowledge this has yet to be acknowledged by the cycling press:

Then again, I suppose there's nothing wrong with recycling. The professional road racing world is still trying to recycle Vandenbroucke, and the fixed-gear world is still trying to recycle front wheels. We've already seen them breathe new life into the Spinergy Rev-X and the Aerospoke, and now they're moving on to the wheelchair wheel:

If you're a competitive wheelchair athlete who's upgraded to a Zipp or something, you'll be happy to know there's a burgeoning market for your old take-offs.

I have to think that most NYC natives (Bklyn especially)would be alert enough to know that when someone follows you to your home afte yelling at you it's probably not going to end well. I'm going to guess the guy was attacked was a bit of a Fred himself and probably looked PeeWee Herman on a bike. I try not to mouth off to other riders unless I am prepared to back it up physically which is why I only yell at small children and little old ladies.

Inaccuracies are bad, Snob. The assault occurred in MADISON, the report was from the MILWAUKEE newspaper. To clarify, Madison is about an hour dead nuts west of Milwaukee, sitauted between some lesser lakes, full of college kids that still (in this day & age!) somehow think patchouli and sandalwood make up for bad hygiene, is the epicenter of Wisco liberalism (nothing wrong with that, just the kids that preach it), and state government. Milwaukee is a haggard and dying (think 60 year old hooker with a smoking and drinkling problem that has diabetes)manufacturing blue collar town that accounts for the bulk of state reveneues and happens to be one of the most segregated cities in the US o' A. In that light, some dip TT rider and his infested harlot attacking an older cat could only really occur in Madison, as anyone who goes ultra political is far too full of smug to let a reasonable an inoffensive comment such as, "Get a light" go without some sort of response. He only attacked the cat because he had NO rational response to the comment and thereby broke down to his Cro magnon core self and depended upon violence to make his point 'heard'. Don't believe me? How rational can you be if you ride a TT bike, in Wisco, in winter? How rational can you be if you ride a TT period?

In August 2006, he was caught in an Italian amateur race with a license made out to "Francesco del Ponte" (a badly Italianized version of his name, "del Pantalone" being correct) and bearing a photo of the world champion, Tom Boonen.

Anon 1:30, that is exactly why, when I am intent on physically assaulting another cyclist, I always make sure that I am riding my Scott time trial bike. That way, when I ride my Trek time trial bike, nobody suspects that its the same guy.

Snob, is the babuskas available with any options? Can you get it with a fan belt to convert it to a kiffiyeh or a chin strap to convert it into a balaclava? Cold weather is upon us, and the fashion-minded among us have noted your disapproval and are desperately searching for alternatives.

Anon 1:34, your comments are good and all, but they would be more interesting if they went like this:

Hey Bikesnob. Inaccuracies are bad, Snob. The assault occurred in MADISON, Bikesnob, the report was from the MILWAUKEE newspaper. To clarify, Bikesnob, Madison is about an hour dead nuts west of Milwaukee, sitauted between some lesser lakes, full of college kids that still, believe it or not Bikesnob (in this day & age!) somehow think patchouli and sandalwood make up for bad hygiene, are you listening Biksnob, is the epicenter of Wisco liberalism (nothing wrong with that Bikesnob, just the kids that preach it), and state government.

hell yes!! brakes kick friggen ass!!!!! I love brakes so friggen much I can't give enough platitude for brakes...they are just that awesome. This is why I think anyone riding a bike without brakes outside a velodrome is the epitome of imbecile.

BSNYC -- I think you may have inadvertently solved the mystery as to why the fence on the Manhattan end of the Manhattan Bridge bike path looks like a vegan T. Rex used it to grate a giant block of cheddar.

I don't know if it's easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God, but I think we can all agree that a fixed gear rider attempting to pass through chain link is, by definition, a dicey proposition.

But not all dorky behavior is intentional.

Last night, I rode home via Second Avenue and Chrystie Street, passing a few folks who felt the need to pass me so I could pass them again.

After a mile or two, I was alongside one rider who asked me to take the bike lane if I wanted it. He then he ran a light to get a jump going up the Bridge.

It wasn't until then that I realized he thought I was racing.

Yeesh, I'm not that dorky (I hope).

The truth was, I was late for a parent-teacher conference.

Good thing I didn't ask him about the sunglasses he was wearing at night.

BSNYC, I wonder what you think of handlebar-mounted bells and ringing them as an expression of vexation. After traveling to Portland, OR this past summer and learning that there are manifold passive agressive ways of expressing rage in the most artificially friendly manner possible, I have realized that ringing the bell on my bike is the perfect passive agressive way to express annoyance as well as let people know I'm nearing. I just got one in November and although I was skeptical about its potential efficacy and the general aesthetics of such a bell, I've found that it really works well without completely pissing people off. And I believe it is quite handsome. Perhaps there are some cyclists and pedestrians plotting to follow me home and beat me senseless, but at present people haven't seemed overly angered due to my reserved ringing.

Phew! That's a relief. Thought I was going to have to seek some urgent medical care and/or counselling. Or meet you at the basketball court after school. Either way I was going to have to meet some pain as I grew up in Milwaukee and am an atrocious fighter.

Wade, remarkably, bells work. More remarkably, most folks kinda smile when you use them. Granted, not as anger relieving as an f bomb. To use a bell as a fella is to be very comfortable in your masculinity, as they all sound rather timid. Maybe they can make a 650b gong that you can hit with a hammer as you rock your freestyle fixie to the next sesh to boost the manliness of the simple bell.

I hope you folks in the big cities practice safe cycling. It's obvious there is an epidemic of Dork Bike disease. It's contagious and transmitted by contact so don't ever ride a strange bike (saddle contact is the most common vector, followed by handlebars). If you must, use gloves and a saddle condom.

Wow...I thought the whole point of getting to 51 alive was so that you had the right to write angry letters to local shopping newspapers and correct the entire world on the right way to do things, as well as pressure the masses to direct the majority of their tax dollars towards slightly smoother roads and better trash pickups.

I've been practicing my old guy lines for when I ride:

"11 SPEEDS ARE FOR WEAK LOSERS"

"Bah, CRABON FIBER IS FOR PUNKS"

GET OFF MY LAWN..damned kids.

Whoda thunk that being a dick would lead to violence?, I have to rethink my future on the bike.

Using a bell works. What does not work is when some asshole stealthily materializes beside you on the road. I always think what would happen if I had to hook around a road obstacle- I do know if I was brought down Casper would undergo repeated overhead lessons.

Ooh, I can't wait to see the names of that pathetic Wisconsin couple published. You may think there is no such thing as a curse, Mr. Snob, but you are wrong. Once I get their names and addresses, they will never be able to keep a headset adjusted for the rest of their pitiful existences. If I am completely successful (stay off the hard stuff during the process, and so on), they will also need to replace their Lycra frequently due to incontinence. Either way, the headset curse will be enough for the female to quit cycling altogether, as soon as she ditches her asshole partner. Or maybe she kills him, I'm not sure because my crystal ball downloaded an "upgrade" to Vista without even asking, and now it works about like an Alivio derailleur hooked to a Red shifter by way of hemp twine, but anyway, I will enjoy this pro bono assignment a great deal.

BSNYC - I little research would enable you to find out that at this time of year in Wisconsin we only wear our BLAZE ORANGE babushkas. The camo ones are folded up and stored away when the deer hunting season goes from bow to gun as the weapon.

...it must be this obama, "spirit of co-operation" thingy, mr "i've gone soft on fix gear hipsters"...by biting yer tongue, figuratively of course, while crossing one bridge, you were creating a bridge of understanding & acceptance w/ a brakeless, fixed gear hipster......& where would that bridge of platitudes ever lead ???......you should have followed him on the descent muttering "fucking lame...ride it, bitch or get out a' the way...some of us have jobs we'ed like to fucking get to"......w/out shamed, they'll never understand the annoyance they precipitate...

I'm 51, I fail to see how an animated rooster from Bugs Bunny cartoons will alert people to your impending arrival/their impending doom, especially since he wasn't the brightest of characters if I remember right. Ok, now I'm just being dumb. Back to work!

...speaking of bridges (& roadies & douches)...in 2006, belgian cycling's "l'enfant terrible", the lovely frankie vdb, man of great potential & many chances, was caught in an amateur italian race bearing a license w/ a foto of tommy boonen & the name "francesco del ponte" or literally "frank of the bridge"...

...nice touch, frankie & doubly appropriate...using boonen's foto was good considering yer own (now ex-) wife called you out for cocaine use, so you do share that w/ 'fast tom'...

...& the name 'francesco del ponte', being used by a man who's burned more fucking bridges behind him than anyone w/ real potential in the history of the pro peleton would be uproariously funny if it wasn't so fucking sad...

My babushka is never to be wearing a babushka. She is saying that Flemish are weird. My experience being that she is correct. To argue, even dogs are being benefit by dietary supplements. But no dog I know benefits from vodka, a primaly human experience.

Regarding wheelchair bike; I think the "pie plate" is actually a chunk of upholstery foam or similar material wrapped around the hub between the flanges. That's sightly weirder than the vestigial fender which probably won't even keep the back of the legs dry.

The real mind blower to me is that it looks like he has a smaller chainring mounted to the pedal side of the crank. Huh?!!

It'll be my first century--I'm so excited! Well, okay, that is if I don't fall off my bike or faint in a puddle of my own vomit or--oh fuck, what have I done? How firm do ya think those mileage commitments are anyway?

there all commonists in madison when they get arrested they ship them to siberia or maybe minnesota its pretty much the same thing except there aint no al franken in siberia so its prolly a better place to get sent to thats what im saying

But they express it by insisting they don't want to be a bother, it's okay to ignore them, they'll just waste away -- not that I would notice, and my behavior seems odd considering all the sacrifices they've made for me.

But I've figured out how to deal with it.

On Mother's Day and Father's Day, I send them a picture of me looking really haggard.

And promoting sales of lighting was just enough to put the per over the edge.

Not all commonists in Madison, there's a fair amount (maybe a dozen? seems fair) of neo-Nazis too. They like the apartment building (on Johnson street?) with swastikas in the tile pattern of the lobby floor for some reason.

Sad to admit I've squawked "get a light" -- was after a near-collision with someone I only detected as our handlebars whooshed past each other on an unlit bike path. My own light has the candle power to announce my presence to the world; can't shed light on the idiots who choose invisibility. Unfortunately a bigger light would turn me into a retina destroying menace. In any case, after hearing that story, I will make sure to stick with my usual hostile sotto voce mutterings.

Don't tell people to get lights or helmets. I don't tell people to ride on the right side of the road, or to start believing in dinosaurs and stop trying to convert queers to the "straight and narrow." The BEST you will get is a stony silence.Better to let them die than become a self-righteous dickhole.

why not just pass fixie guy through the turn instead of being a pussy and blogging about it? I pass people on my brakeless orbea through that exact turn all the time without the aforementioned fung wah splatter.

...the trouble w/ the great "unlighted" is that they tend to ride as if they are visible rather than riding defensively...

...it's a selfish fucking practice because if they do accidentally get hit by a vehicle, the driver not only has to live w/ it for the rest of their lives but there will also probably be a bunch of self righteous cyclists who'll raise a stink in the name of the stupid selfish unlite rider...

The douche bags name is Dustin Dunlavy, of Fitchburg WI.From JSONLINE.COMDustin Dunlavy, 28, Madison, allegedly grabbed Colin O'Brien, 51, around the head in the confrontation on South Shore Drive the night of Nov. 26.O'Brien is the owner of Cronometro, a Williamson Street shop making custom bicycles.Feel free to look him up online and let him know what a douche he is.

Lights are different from brakes, weird hats, etc. If I can't see someone, I might hit them... or a car might hit them, or a car might have to swerve at the last second to avoid them and wreck. Many places, like Wisconsin id wager, are not wall-to-wall lighting at night. Bicyclers in these places are basically invisible.

In other words, not having a light crosses the line between 'dangerous to yourself' and makes you 'a danger to others'. I do not feel 'douchy' at all for all the times I have told people, after they almost smash into me, to 'get a light'.

What I feel douchy about is all the years I rode without a light. And for thinking BSNYC is infallible.

About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!